Silent Wishes
by WizardsGirl
Summary: Wishing for something only ever works when someone is there to help it happen. A Traumatized woman and a Lonely little boy may not have much, but they can still make wishes come true. "So, you're like a Genie!" Tsume Yuki's "Ain't Never Had A Friend Like Me" Prompt! Fem!Harry/Gai, PTSD!Traumatized!Harry, Mentions/descriptions of Horror and Mental Trauma! R&R!
1. Prologue: Hope of Morning

**A/N:** Tsume Yumi is amazing and gave me permission to use her _**Ain't Never Had A Fiend Like Me**_ Prompt, which has been used to create several wonderful fics that I thoroughly enjoy reading again and again. Mine goes in a completely different direction than any of the others, so I would appreciate it if you would refrain from comparing them all in your reviews (Unless it is to comment on how kick-ass they are, of course. Positivity is key, my lovelies!)

This is a Fem!Harry fic, with a Fem!Harry/Gai pairing, as well as a goodly dose of darkness, angst and feels (Because I love making you all cry; I get such lovely responses ;P).

Each Chapter will be named after a Song so feel free to look them up and enjoy!

I seriously hope you enjoy this!

 **/\/\/\/\**

 _ **Silent Wishes**_

 **Prologue:**

 _Hope of Morning_

 **/\/\/\/\**

 _When the Hope of Morning_

 _Starts to Fade in Me_

 _I don't dare let Darkness_

 _Have it's way with Me_

 _And the Hope of Morning_

 _Make's me Worth the Fight_

 _I Will Not Be_

 _Giving In Tonight_

 ** _~"Hope of Morning" By Icon for Hire_**

 **/\/\/\/\**

Nine days, twenty-two hours, forty-seven minutes, twenty-nine seconds and counting, Hydrangea Rose Potter had been held captive. Strapped to a cement block/table, her Magic bound, her body immobile. She knew, she _knew_ , that there was a spy amongst her enemies who could get her out. She _knew_ , just as she knew that the Ministry was holding them back, telling them to wait, as the fat, prejudiced bastards debated on how to best turn this to their advantage. They wouldn't want the ICW to find out that they'd sent their "Weapon" to illegally investigate the Russian Dark Lord, Lord Panas *****. With all the hullabaloo the British threw over anyone investigating during Voldemort, they didn't want anyone to realize that they were as hypocritical as all that.

She was even under a strong Identity Protection glamour, the same kind used by the Unspeakables, meaning that, even though she didn't outwardly change in appearance, anyone who saw her who wasn't in-the-know, would never connect her to The-Woman-Who-Conquered. The self-named 'Warriors of Death', the _Voiny Smerti_ ****** , knew they had someone important. They just couldn't figure out _who_ yet. They'd been torturing her, every two days, with every third day being a Resting Day, which was what she was on now. Her body was always healed, so that the next session would hurt all the more.

It was a good system, she ironically knew. Killing someone with kindness. Depending on how long she lasted before "Rescue", she would grow to hate and even fear these days of rest, because that single kindness would become her only reprieve and, once her enemies realized her psychological issues from the Dursley's, they'd _use_ that and, as stubborn as she could be, she knew that Stockholm Syndrome was a relatively likely outcome after a point.

Nine days, twenty-two hours, fifty-seven minutes, thirty seconds. At ten days and five minutes, _exactly_ , the forty-eight hour torture session would begin anew. One hour, seven minutes and twelve seconds of respite left. She hated it.

At the twenty-third hour mark, the door slipped open, and the Spy slipped in.

"Sorry, Potter," the man hissed, blue eyes cold with apathy as he pulled out a potions knife. "The higher-ups can't afford you blabbing. And, while these commie bastards can scramble a brain, they're no deft hands at _invading_ one. So, I've got my orders to keep ya alive but silent." He hopped onto her table, patting the potions blade against her gagged mouth, and idly she wondered if he knew about the Runes that could detect magic, the ones that would alert Lord Panas and lock the room down, but her mind was fatigued from the constant pain-rest-pain of the last few days, and she couldn't quite muster the urge to care beyond her bitterness and exhaustion. "They wanted me ta cut out your pretty tongue, but tongueless mouths still speak. So, instead," he dragged the knife down her chin, tracing the magically treated blade against the fragile skin of her neck. "Looks like I'll have to go straight to the source, aye?" Without another word, he dug the blade in slowly, oh-so-slowly, as he began to remove her vocal cords.

The pain, while sharp and cruel, lasted only one minute and forty-two seconds, which was faster than most of the tortures the Russians had put her through. Then the Spy was applying the healing salve to her neck, the smell of it, like mint tea and old socks, marking it as one of the cheaper, more common Russian remedies, meaning that it would heal, but scar horribly. Something she'd grown accustomed to smelling over the last nine days, twenty-three hours, four minutes, and fifteen seconds, especially since every third day that same paste was applied to her body after she was sprayed down with cold water and fed the minimum amount to keep her alive and relatively settled. She had no doubt that, when all was said and done, she'd never be able to stand the smell. It already made her twitch.

When he finally left, after seven minutes of caressing her now grotesquely scarred throat, he blew her a kiss and slipped away without another word. Slowly, her throat tight from more than just the numbing effects of the cream, Hydrangea refocused her eyes on the cement ceiling, uncaring as the tears rolled down the sides of her head, mingling in her matted, red hair. They wouldn't be the first tears she'd cry, nor the last.

She continued her silent counting, a trick she used to do whenever the Dursleys would lock her away for a long period of time, and listened to the silent pleading of her Magic beneath her skin.

They would come for her soon, and she had no doubt that her newly mute status would anger them.

Let them come.

 **/\/\/\/\**

Lord Panas has been furious to find that her ability to speak had been so ruthlessly removed. Furious, but also coldly amused.

"You are no more than an object to your Masters, little flame," he crooned to her, for the first time interrupting her Resting Day. Hydrangea doesn't so much as glance at him, jewel-toned eyes focused on the ceiling and her continuous counting. One of his red-gloved hands strokes her horribly-scarred neck with mocking tenderness, making her muscles shiver unconsciously.

"A little Matryoshka, dressed to please. They open you up and pull out whichever one they want to use whenever they have a task for you, don't they, little flame?" He leaned forward, his thick beard grazing her ear as he whispered. "Nothing more than that, a little doll to use in their games, but where are they now, sweet little flame? Where are they while their precious little Matryoshka is held captive in the snows of my kingdom? Where. Are. They. Now." He leaned back, and once more stroked a mocking hand down her ruined neck, before leaving, the bight red of his battle-robes standing out like a cloak of blood, his sigil on his back, a duo of silver-and-gold fish circling. Fish were the Sacred Animal of the Slavic Goddess of Death, Moranal. Fish symbolized secrets. Secrets of death, fertility, and water. Them being in a circle, was yet another symbol of death, the constant cycle of death and rebirth.

It was, she would admit, a far better symbol than Tom's had been. Not as terrifying, but more alluring all the same.

Hydrangea focused on the ceiling.

She had more counting to do.

 **/\/\/\/\**

Twenty-seven days, thirteen hours, forty-one minutes, thirteen seconds and counting. Another Resting Day, the ninth one since she was captured. Twenty-seven days in the cold, cement room, with only enemies to keep her company. They'd brought in one of the Mind Thrashers on the fourteenth day, and every day before a Resting Day, and Hydrangea didn't know what was worse, the screaming headache, the confused mishmash her memories were slowly trying to untangle from, or the fact that she lost over three hours trying to remember how to count every time. She'd re-configured her brain enough to get back on track while they were forcing the minimal amount of essentials down her throat to keep her alive, but it was an exhausting, painful experience, and she dreaded every time those white-and-gray clad bastards entered her Cell.

Lord Panas had taken to randomly visiting on her Resting Days, with no rhyme or reason. He hadn't been by the last one, but she had no doubt he'd be by the next Resting Day, drawing out the length of time to manipulate her damaged mind into associating him with kind touches and soft words, to associate her home country with betrayal and pain (Not that he needed to, she'd always seen it as such, anyways). She knew herself well-enough to know that, after a while, he'd be the only good thing she'd see, even knowing he was a Dark Lord and that it was on his orders she'd be hurt. She would start to associate him with kindness, like she used to think of her cupboard as a safe place, despite the fact she had always known that no one else slept in a cupboard. Just like she'd begun associating 'saving-people' with honor and praise and smiles and kindness. She knew herself, and that just made the inevitable Stockholm Syndrome more grim and bitter.

The door opened, and the Spy had returned, and with him, underneath an Invisibility Cloak that had nothing on her own Relic, was an Unspeakable.

"Whelp, Potter, the higher-ups have come to a decision," the Spy told her calmly, locking the door behind him, despite the fact that they had ten hours, sixteen minutes, and twenty-six seconds until the next Forty-Eight Period. The Spy pulled a moleskin pouch from beneath his _Voiny Smerti_ uniform, the dark gray Russian Battle Robes making the silver-and-gold sigil fish gleam on his breast. He then stuck his arm into the pouch, and pulled out a golden tea-pot like Indian lamp, pale silver runes and symbols covering it entirely in tiny, tiny letters. The Unspeakable stepped forward and silently pulled out a black-bladed athame, gleaming with an unnatural inner-light.

"See, you're too much of a risk, what with the Russians Mind Thrashers hanging about and ol' Panas looking for collars for you, like's the idea of you as a pet, he does," The Spy told her easily, blue eyes like uncaring ice as the Unspeakable began to swiftly carve runes into her body, neatly avoiding the many, many new scars that littered her twenty-four-year-old self from collarbone down, avoiding her hands only. The Runes each felt like dry ice, so cold that it burned like fire, and, had she not already been forcibly silenced, she would have cried out, the seals and runes on her "bed" making her unable to even cringe, tears leaking from her eyes as the Spy looked down at her,

"Can't have our little Savior trading sides, can we?" He asked mildly, watching her recently cleaned body was once more soaked with blood, each dutifully carved rune slowly turning pitch-black against her skin. "So, Minister Farroway pulled on the Unspeakables to come up with something that would keep you properly subservient to your rightful people. This is a remake of the original curse that trapped the Djinn, with an original Lamp purified by a Monk. Once our Unspeakable friend is finished, you will be trapped within the Lamp, only there is no possibility of being 'wished' free, Potter." The Runes were burning colder and colder, an icy fie in her muscles, trying to burn its way into her bones and beyond, her chest heaving in silent sobs as she screamed, unheard. Her magic, still bound and growing more restless every day, struggled to be free, causing a different kind of burn to try and counteract the Runes as it writhed and twisted like an electrocuted snake.

"You will be trapped, forever held by the Lamp, to be used whenever you are called upon, and, best of all, you won't be able to harm your Masters, only ever able to serve in their best interest, only able to protect them, even at the cost of your life," here, the cold Spy smirked. "Not that you'll die, oh no. You will simply be forced back into the Lamp, and then you will be able to serve your Master again. Imagine it, Potter," he crooned, tilting his head to the side, eyes locked on hers as the Unspeakable began to finish their carving. "Forever trapped, to be used by others for eternity." And, for the first time, there was something in his eyes besides apathy and coldness, a dark cruelty that reminded Hydrangea so much of Tom that her already tormented mind ached. And, to make things worse, her Magic was being _changed_ by the Runes. Her Magic twisted and bucked and strained and, in her mind, she could see the gleaming gold shifting and changing, the shapeless egg-shaped core of it twisting into a mess, lumps and shapes forming and dissolving as the Magic of the Runes began to build, the End approaching.

"As soon as our Friend is done, we'll be gone, and you'll be trapped. Soon enough, you'll be back in the hands of the Ministry, Potter, safe and sound and properly submissive," the Spy crooned, his hand coming to rest firmly against her neck. Her Magic was forming, golden chains with vicious, jagged hooks at the end, coiling like frightened snakes as they rattled and hissed in her mind, and the Unspeakable pulled his gleaming athame away from her skin, her body coated in blood and black etchings.

"It is almost complete," the Unspeakable said, voice twisted by a spell so that one couldn't tell age, gender, or emotion from it. "One final component and it will be complete."

"Excellent," the Spy said, focusing his blue eyes on hers, and opening his mouth to continue. But, before he could speak, the Unspeakables athame flashed, and the Spy's throat was slit. Those blue eyes went wide with shock as his thick, hot blood sprayed out onto Hydrangea's body, the Unspeakable quickly grabbing him by the hair and holding him over her, coating her pinned body with his blood.

Three things happened as he dropped the corpse to the wayside like a piece of trash.

One: the Runes _pulsed_ , and the Lamp _glowed_.

Two: The door burst open as Panas and his soldiers burst in, a sickle flying through the air and decapitating the Unspeakable, their blood adding the the thick pool that coated Hydrangea.

Three: Her Magic _finally_ broke free, the thick, golden chains erupting from her body to slash at all, hooking around the Lamp that she was now tied to and yanking it close, just as Panas shot an unknown, violently purple spell at her.

Chains, Lamp, and Spell collided against her bloody body and, with an explosion that rocked everything within one hundred miles, the Woman-Who-Conquered disappeared, never to be seen in the Wizarding World ever again.

 **/\/\/\/\**

In the middle of a clearing near what appeared to be a relatively unused Training Ground, a golden Lamp and a blood-soaked woman appeared in mid-air out of a violently purple vortex. As the two crashed into the ground, the woman seemed to dissolve into thick, red smoke, and spiraled away down the spout of the Lamp. The silver Runes on said Lamp flashed brightly twice, before dimming to a dark gray.

It would be several months before the Lamp was found by a young blond boy with bright blue eyes, who was trying to find a good place to plan a prank.

This would be the beginning of everything.

 **A/N:** End. I rewrote this chapter literally six times. Enjoy!

 ***** \- Panas, Russian boys name meaning Immortal

 ****** \- I used Google Translate on my moms phone so I couldn't type in the actual Russian alphabet, just the Pronunciation in English. Sorry!


	2. Chapter 1: Hymn for the Missing

**A/N:** Yay, here's the next chapter! ^-^

Okay, so, real quick, I'mma answer a question:

 **Why call it Silent Wishes?**

The answer is simple:

At every birthday party, ever shooting star, every dandelion we blow away, we're told to make a wish. And similarly, we are told to never say the wish out loud, because then it won't come true. Since Hydrangea can't speak, she never has to worry about that, but that just means her wishes would more than likely come true more often.

Anyways, thanks again to the amazing Tsume Yuki!

I hope you like it so far!

Enjoy!

 _ **Silent Wishes**_

 **Chapter One:**

 _Hymn For The Missing_

 **/\/\/\/\**

 _Where are you now?_

 _Are you lost?_

 _Will I find you again?_

 _Are you Alone?_

 _Are you Afraid?_

 _Are you searching for me?_

 _ **~"Hymn For The Missing" by Red**_

 **/\/\/\/\**

 _Where was she?_

 _Everything... Everything was dark._

 _Had the Spy taken her eyes too? No... No, she would remember, she would know..._

 _Wouldn't she?_

 _..._

 _Wait._

 _What number was she on? She'd... Lost count again. Had the Scramblers come early? Had they... Had they broken her mind again? Last time..._

 _Last time it took almost a day to remember Teddy..._

 _Teddy...?_

 _She... She could remember Teddy. He was... Three? With red hair and brown eyes and-!_

 _No, no that wasn't right. Teddy was blue hair and yellow eyes and gap-toothed smiles and moonlight._

 _Who..._

 _What had happened?_

 _She... She couldn't remember. Everything was.. Twisted and blurred and why couldn't she remember?_

Curled against the bottom of the lamp, Hydrangea Potter clutched her hands into her hair and tried to pull her broken psyche back together. The black runes that coated her like a grotesque suit pulsed ominously. As she slipped once more into unconsciousness, the world around her began to shift, slowly, until it looked like she was in a warped dome of faceted crystal, able to just barely make out the outside world. Enough to make out that it was night, and that the lamp was in a clearing, but nothing more.

It would be well into the next day before she woke again.

 **/\/\/\/\**

It was the light that woke her. Natural light, not the blinding, painful light from her captures wands, or the light of a spell being cast upon her, or even the light that flashed behind her eyelids every time she was surprised by a new bout of pain. Slowly opening her eyes, Hydrangea stared upward in silence, bewildered and afraid to believe she was out.

She was in a dome of crystal, the outside world warped and strange, but she could see the _sky_. Could feel the warmth of the sun on her naked skin. Slowly, she sat up, her body almost numb as she stared unblinkingly upward, her throat growing so tight that it felt like she would choke at any second, her lungs aching from lack of air.

 _She... She was out?_

She still couldn't remember much of anything, fragmented and twisted around as her brain was, but she remembered the Spy returning and the Runes and the Blood, a flash of light and a twist of breath before the world scrambled itself like a drunken portkey, but...

She couldn't place faces with names, or time and events. She could have sworn Teddy was three, but he was born before Tom's death, and that had been five years ago...

 _Hadn't it?_

She couldn't remember. It was all twisted.

 _She was eleven and chasing the snitch. Her right hand ached from her detention with Umbridge, but-_

 _No, that wasn't right._

 _Her arm hurt, yes, but that was from the bludger. She was fifteen-_

 _No. Twelve._

 _Aunt Petunia hitting her with a Beater's Bat-_

 _No._

 _Malfoy's Mum leaning over her in her cupboard-_

 _No._

Twisted, blurred and crossed into knots.

Her head ached and the sun was over her.

Laying down, Hydrangea spread her arms out slowly, feeling her joints ache fiercely after so long without moving, and set aside her mental issues in order to just stare hungrily up at the sky.

It could wait.

She was used to waiting.

 **/\/\/\/\**

It took her a long while before she could move without too much pain, although her mind seemed to be irreversibly damaged, not something she hadn't anticipated after the first Scrambling, but...

But.

She couldn't remember her parents names. She couldn't remember Hermione and Ron's faces, just their hair and their voices and their attitudes. She could remember Luna's eyes and hair and Creatures but not her voice. Neville had been reduced to a vague memory of brown hair and gentle hands and the smell of earth and growing things.

Tom wasn't anything more than hisses and red eyes and green death.

She had lost far more than her freedom in the snowy kingdom of Lord Panas.

Too much of herself.

Her body was draped in thick, horrible scars and mocking, black letters carved with disdain. Her prison was a tease, showing the outside world without any of the symptoms, beyond the vague feeling of the suns warmth through the crystal. She could see the grass and leaves moving in the wind but couldn't feel it. See a bird in the branches, but not hear it. Nothing but silence and a window and herself all alone and trapped forever in a lamp on the ground.

The only good thing about her crystal prison was that she could use her Magic. Oh, she couldn't use it the same way as before, couldn't let it dance under her skin, eager to obey. It had been changed, manipulated, and tore from her body in gleaming, golden chains with jagged blades hooked out of the ends. But she could still use it, like extra arms and weapons and shields. She practiced using them while she shuffled around her prison, working slowly to fix the damage from her Cell.

She would never be the same, but she would never be the emaciated _victim_ she'd been when she'd woken.

She refused to act like a Victim again.

 **/\/\/\/\**

It took two weeks before the solitude began to eat at her.

It started with a flicker out of the corner of her eye, with what looked like a small bug skittering across the ground. She dismissed it, but then it happened again, and again, until she'd dug her fingers into her skin, chewed her nails to bloody tears, just to prove to herself that she was still there, still alive.

There were whispers, wordless calls of what sounded like her name, taunting her from behind and laughing when she turned to see it.

Some days, it got so bad she could only curl into a ball and hyperventilate into unconsciousness.

Sometimes she bashed her fists against her prison walls until her blood dripped slowly down, only to disappear the next time she slept, adding to her paranoia, making her wonder if she'd even hit the walls at all.

As time went on, it got both better and worse.

The silence, she fought by whistling. But the whispering got louder and she'd spend days wide awake, in a perpetual state of paranoid panic, before she managed to pass out.

The visions, she couldn't fight, but she could focus on what she could tell was real, the feel of the sun and the sights outside her prison and her own body.

She recognized the insanity that was coiling, mist-like and insidious, around her fragile psyche, but seeing and knowing it didn't do anything to slow it. She tried, truly she did, but she found herself sliding deeper into her own head, trying to talk only to remember that she couldn't, and that no one was there to begin with. Sometimes, she dreamed that someone came for her, that her prison changed or that she was moved or released.

Once she wondered if this was all the afterlife, her own version of Hell, and that she had died in that fight against Tom.

Once she woke up and thought that she heard her Aunt telling her she should be grateful.

She'd long ago stopped wondering over the fact she didn't feel hunger and her body wasn't withering away.

So, when the world around her changed, it took her a while to realize that it wasn't another waking dream.

There was a boy in her clearing. She didn't know quite when he came or when he went, but she saw and recognized him three times before he came near enough to her for her to see him semi-clearly.

A young boy, about twelve, with bright yellow, spiky hair, big blue eyes that squinted like her own did back when she had glasses ( _Or was that another dream?_ ). Whisker-like birthmarks on his cheeks, and a bright orange outfit that someone from her memories would have loved ( _Was it Ron? Or Neville? Or one of the ones who she knew but didn't anymore? So many people, so many losses, so much lost, so much, so much, so much-_ ).

He was doing Magic, or something like it, the Boy in Orange. Trying to make what looked like copies of himself, only they were sickly and gaunt, like half-corpse reflections that dissolved into smoke every time. She watched him whenever her mind was able to separate itself from itself, pressed up against the chilly crystal wall and hungrily eyeing him as he moved his hands and cast his spell, as he struggled and huffed and grew frustrated enough to throw himself back.

He did this every time, sometimes he would do other things, like put together what she recognized as pranking tools ( _ **Did**_ _she recognize them?_ ) with a foxy grin. Sometimes he would use some strange spell that acted like a far more powerful Metamorph-Magic, transforming into completely different people of different ages, heights, and genders, practicing his gestures and movements, obviously training in some form of espionage.

Time passed, and Hydrangea began to see this boy like she saw Teddy ( _Or, at least, what she thought she saw Teddy as_ ). She celebrated when he got something right, silently laughing as he bounced about the clearing, hooting with glee. She felt bad when he despaired, and tried to figure out what problems he was having with his Spells ( _They were over-powered, she could tell, but she didn't think he could get his Magic any lower, and where was a Teacher or a Friend to help him? She didn't wonder about parents, not when she saw the same look in his eyes and frame, the same hunger, the same "Notice me, love me,_ _ **see ME**_ _" she knew from herself, or was it someone else? Whichever, she recognized it, even if the name eluded her, she knew it, she knew_ _ **him**_ ).

She watched him as time passed ( _How much, she couldn't tell, what was time to a Djinn? Even a bastardized one like her._ ), and she looked forward to every glimpse.

The day he finally noticed her prison, he was practicing his version of the Switching Spell, and had over-powered it ( _It happened one time out of ten now, when it used to happen five out of ten. He was growing. She was so proud of her Boy_ ). Instead of the log he usually brought, Hydrangea found herself being dropped through the air, a silent cry escaping her as she stumbled while her Prison tilted and bounced. She didn't feel it physically, per-se, but the turning of the world messed with her equilibrium, and she sat down heavily, vaguely nauseous.

She didn't have time to wonder about that, however, because her Boy was _there_. His tan hands ( _Were her own ever that small?_ ) lifted her Prison, and, for the first time, she could see those big, blue eyes up close, and Hydrangea focused on them, pressed up against the wall. A tear fell down her cheek, and she didn't know why, overwhelmed as her Boy looked at her, her Prison, with wonder and delight.

 _Please_ , she begged him, pressing her forehead against the crystal. _Please, let me out. Please, don't leave me. Please..._

 _ **See Me.**_

Her Boy tilted her Prison this was and that, and then, he answered her silent wish.

He used one of his bright orange sleeves, and rubbed the Lamp.

 **A/N:** Ta-Da~!

Tell me what you guys think, okay?


	3. Chapter 2: Forest Fires

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for the support! ^-^

To the Reviewer _**Furwing Silverclaw**_ , thank you for reviewing. I'm sorry you feel that you can't read any more of this fic due to the unfortunate amount of cruelty and trauma within. I thank you for reading so far and reviewing, and am sad to see you go. You're going to miss out on the happier scenes I'm planning, as well as on all the healing and comfort and cuteness, but then again, you are also sparing yourself from the angst, trauma, and mental illness and pain, so I understand.

I hope you find something cute and happy to make up for the darkness of this fic.

(PS: Go watch videos about baby sloths and wombats. They are amazing and so cute~! ^-^)

To all the ones still reading: Thank you, and please enjoy! ^-^

(BTW, feel free to recommend songs, I took forever trying to find one for this chapter and had to settle on one that didn't fit very well -_-)

 **/\/\/\/\**

 _ **Silent Wishes**_

 **Chapter Two**

 _Forest Fires_

 **/\/\/\/\**

 _And Whilst I Watch In Silence_

 _You're Starting Forest Fires_

 _You Start Them Just _

_To Feel The Heat..._

 _And Whilst I Keep My Quiet_

 _You're Running With The Tigers_

 _You're Running Just _

_To Run From Me..._

 _I Don't Blame You..._

 _ **~"Forest Fires" by Lauren Aquilina**_

 **/\/\/\/\**

Naruto knew he wasn't exactly the smartest person ever. He got his kanji and hiragana and katakana mixed up, he couldn't figure out the Bunshin, and he got caught up in Genjutsu like a little kid. He knew all this.

He also knew that if a harmless-looking lamp thing started spitting out thick red smoke, it was probably for a bad reason.

So, when the pretty, if dusty, lamp had gotten Kawarimi'd with him, he hadn't thought about it until it started smoking. Then he dropped it and got the hell out of there, lunging away and hiding behind a tree, hoping he was far enough away that the blast wouldn't hurt.

Only...

Only there wasn't a blast at all.

Cautiously, the twelve-year-old peered around the edge of the tree, and froze, blue eyes going wide in shock.

There... There was a lady there! Where the Lamp's smoke had been! A really pretty lady, with red hair and bright green eyes-greener than Sakura-chans!-staring up at the sky like it was the only bowl of Ramen left in the Elemental Countries, frozen and awestruck. She... She was crying...

And naked. Very, very naked, but covered in scars and weird seals and, well, those were more weird and interesting than a weird, pretty naked lady...

Who came out of a lamp.

Before he could decide what to do, or how to think about what had happened, however, the lady was falling to her knees, digging her fingers in the grass and making weird noises, like she was laughing and crying without any noise.

Naruto gulped, starting to sweat nervously.

He wasn't good with crying girls...

 **/\/\/\/\**

She was Out.

 _Out_.

Staring up at the sky, Hydrangea's world narrowed down, her scarred throat going tight and painful.

The sky...

It was so blue...

The sun was warm and bright and, and the clouds! There, there were clouds. A bird flew through the trees, trees she could _hear_ rustling in a wind she could _feel_.

She could hear and feel so _much_ and she just...!

Slowly, Hydrangea collapsed to her knees, uncaring of the tears streaming down her face as she dug her fingers into the grass, closing her eyes.

She was _Out_.

Emotions overflowed, and she was helpless to them. Choking on laughter and tears, she collapsed forward, burying her face in the grass, gasping and choking on her own scars and saliva as she tried desperately to breath, eyes closed as she ground her forehead into the clover,

"H-hey, Lady?" An uncertain voice called, nervous and hesitant and Hydrangea stilled, breath stuttering for a completely different reason as her head shot up.

It was Her Boy, standing in such clear, beautiful glory, bright yellow hair and bright orange clothes and whiskers and eyes squinted close in nervous concern. Her bright, beautiful Boy...

Staggering to her feet, Hydrangea stumbled towards him, collapsing to her knees again and reaching trembling fingers towards him, fresh tears making her breath short and her eyes ache. Her Boy's eyes went wide when her shaking fingertips brushed his whiskers, and she saw clearly that his eyes were the same color as the sky...

The color of freedom.

Choking on a sob, she forced a tremulous, pathetic smile and closed her eyes, her head falling forward and her arms dropping, so that her forehead brushed against his chest as her shoulders shook.

"Hey, Lady?" Her Boy asked uncertainly, lifting his hands to awkwardly pat at her, and she let out a soundless laugh, no more than a sharp huff of air, slowly pulling back to peer back at him, smiling much easier now. She reached up and touched his cheeks again, feeling the slightly-raised, velvety skin of his birthmarks.

 _Thank you_ , she mouthed, slowly and exaggeratedly, watching his brows furrow before his face cleared and he grinned at her, bright as everything else around him and warm as the sun itself.

"No problem, Lady!" He chirped, before chuckling and rubbing the back of his head. "What did I do?" Hydrangea laughed, another huff of air as she shook her head and leaned back, rubbing at her face and trying to clear her breathing, before she looked over her shoulder.

Her Prison was lying on the ground, shinning innocently in the light of the beautiful sun, and Hydrangea shuddered and hunched her shoulder's turning her eyes away even as the Runes on her body pulsed and tingled, knowing she would never be free of the awful, innocuous Lamp. Her Boy looked confused, staring from her to the Lamp and back, before realization lit his beautiful, freedom-colored eyes.

"You were _in_ the Lamp?" He asked slowly, as if he was trying to figure something out; Hydrangea nodded, flinching slightly. "So, so you're like a Genie!" Her Boy declared, those blue eyes sparkling with childish delight and she couldn't help but smile, even as her heart ached and bitterness churned in her gut as the Runes on her body pulsed again, stronger than before. "So, that means I get three wishes, right?!" Hydrangea's smile faltered, and the bitterness melted away into a soul-deep anguish as she closed her eyes and lowered her head, red hair, like blood in sunlight, covering her face. Silently, slowly, she nodded, arms slowly curling around herself, and Her Boy fell silent as well.

"Did... Did whoever hurt you... Put you in the lamp?" Her Boy asked with soft uncertainty; she flinched, but nodded again. She would answer Her Boy's questions, always and honestly, and it wasn't just because she could feel the Runes tighten at the thought of lying or misleading him. He had _Seen Her_ , and she would repay that in kind.

Small hands touched her hair, and she flinched, lifting her head at their urging to stare into his determined face, a fire gleaming, bright and blade-sharp, in those sky-blue eyes.

"They'll never hurt you again, dattebayo," he told her firmly, and Hydrangea could only nod slowly, captivated by those bright, hard eyes. "I promise you this, Neechan, and I _never_ break a promise. It's my Nindo, believe it, dattebayo!" He told her, grinning bright and cunning and for a minute, she got a flash of that smile on two identical faces, red hair and laughter and never-alone, before the memory slipped away again, like so many others. She didn't worry about it, however, because she knew she would find it again eventually. Or it would never come back nd she would forget it. Either way, it didn't matter.

"Come on, Neechan," he told her, voice strong as he reached down and took her hands, pulling her to her feet; Hydrangea stumbled a bit, still stunned and wondering and lost in the overwhelming Outside. She was led by the hand to a nearby stump, where Her Boy had her sit and told her to wait there, before, with a reassuring grin, he disappeared into the trees and vanished out of sight.

For a few confused seconds, she wondered if her was a figment of her mind, for him, with how bright he was, to disappear like that without using his Magic...

As the seconds passed and Her Boy didn't reappear, she slowly began o question whether it was _all_ a hallucination. As the time ticked on, her paranoia began to grow, and she slid off the trunk and curled against it's base, eyes flicking left and right, her breath beginning to speed up.

 _Where was he?_

 _Was he real?_

 _Was any of this real?_

 _If she closed her eyes, would she open them and find her Crystal Walls again?_

 _Would the sun go away and Her Boy's freedom-bright eyes disappear?_

 _Would he come back?_

 _Was he there to begin with?_

She was hyperventilating, she distantly acknowledged, resigned to the habit she'd developed while trying to cope. Her fingers dug into her temples, sharp little bites of pain helping her focus as she rocked, the loud beating of her blood drowning out the sounds around her, vision graying out as she struggled to breath properly.

"-chan?!" a muffled voice said, but she ignored it, it wasn't real, it never was, no matter how clear. Never ever ever, never real, no one's there, they're never there, don't look, don't look, _don't look_ -

Her Runes _Pulsed_ , sharp and near-painful and her body cringed as she was abruptly and painfully forced to breath properly, mind abruptly focused and eyes blinking through suddenly clear vision.

"Neechan?!" Her Boy's voice, clear and ringing with fearful concern, made her flinch, head jerking up, uncaring about the sweat, snot, and tears covering her face, the small beads of blood from were her nails cut the skin on her forehead also ignored. Her Boy was kneeling in front of her, blue eyes worried as he stared into her eyes, and she blankly noted that he'd grabbed her arms by the wrists and had forced them from her head, the fingertips wet with blood.

"Are you better now?" he asked her worriedly; jerkily, she nodded, staring at him in confused wonder.

He'd come back.

He was _Real_ and he'd _Come Back_.

Her memories might never fully recover but... But she _knew_ that only a few people from Before had left and come back. Enough to count on one hand and have fingers, and even less had never left in the first place. She couldn't remember the how's or why's or who's, but she _knew that_.

So...

So why had he come back for her?

"I brought you some stuff to wear, Neechan," he told her simply, pointing to a pile of mismatched cloth that was almost as big as he was, making Hydrangea blink at it as he carefully let her hands go. "I didn't know what you'd wanna wear, but Sakura-chan is always going on about clothes and stuff and girls always get picky about what they wear, so I brought a bunch of stuff just in case!" He grinned at her brightly, and she offered a wobbly, uncertain smile, blinking a few times as the boy pulled her to her feet carefully. "Oh, hold on, Neechan," he said, scrambling through the many hidden pockets all over his orange outfit, before he pulled out a long length of green silk, grinning proudly up at her.

"Here you go!" he chirped, offering it up to her, and slowly, Hydrangea accepted it, running her fingers through the soft, almost wet-feeling fabric with fascination. "For your neck, Neechan!" He told her brightly, blue eyes peering up at her shyly. "See, well, Yushin-Sensei, who used to teach Taijutsu before he got promoted to Jounin, see, he had this really bad ass scar on his arm, it looked like someone had tried to _bite_ it, but, see, he didn't like people starin' at it, so he always had a bandage around it, 'cause the civilians got all nervous around it and such and that made him uncomfortable so, um... Yeah," he trailed off sheepishly, a light blush on his cheeks as he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Hydrangea blinked at him, oddly touched as she trailed a finger against the dark green silk. Her Boy used words and terms she didn't understand, but she didn't know if that was because they were actually foreign or if she had just.. Lost them, like so many other things. However, she understood what he was trying to convey, understood the care and consideration he was offering her and, tenderly, she wrapped the green silk around her neck, shivering and twitching as she gently tied the soft material around her ravaged throat. When she was done, she smiled at him and he smiled back, sunshine bright and beautiful, before offering her a slightly stained clothe for her face after her little fit.

Bemused and embarrassed in equal amounts, she quickly rubbed her face clean and shuffled towards the pile of clothes at his urging.

He had gone through the trouble of gathering these clothes for her, and she would show that consideration the proper amount of gratitude.

...Now if only she could figure out the strange-seeming clothing, because she could honestly never remember even a vague memory about the odd dress-like robes with ties and twists in them, and definitely not the odd footwear that was like a sandal and a miniature stilt combined...

 **/\/\/\/\**

His new Neechan was weird and obviously hurt, but it wasn't the kind of hurt they learned to treat at the Academy, so he didn't really know what to do. She, she kind of made him think of the stray cats and dogs he'd seen around, scrounging through alleyways and trash and scrawny, mangy things that would bite out of self defense even if you were only walking by. He remembered one time, when he was younger, wanting to pet a pretty brown and black cat he'd found, only to have his hand clawed up because the cat had gotten so scared of him for no reason. Jiji told him once that, when someone hurts an animal bad enough, it thinks _everyone_ is going to hurt it, and the only way to get it to not be afraid was to work hard at being kind and gentle to it for ages, until it's head and heart healed up.

His Neechan had been hurt so bad she didn't know who to trust, not even herself, and, when he'd come back finding her curled up and half-blue with her fingers clawing at her head, he had freaked out and flailed about for a few minutes before pulling her hands away. He hadn't tried to do anything more, vague memories of Iruka-Sensei telling them about panic attacks and PTSD (whatever that was) and anxiety disorders and such reminding him that just holding her wrists like that, restraining her, could be extremely bad and scary.

It had taken a few minutes of him calling to her, of her twitching and choking and gasping for air, to snap out of it and, to be honest, he'd almost run straight to Iruka-Sensei for help, Neechan's nakedness be damned, but she _had_ snapped out of it and now she was fumbling around with the obi and kimono he'd scrounged up for her from a get-rid-of bin (He'd Henge'd into a poorer lady he'd seen before, and so no one had looked at him funny, but he'd still been mortified grabbing the girly under _things_ for his Neechan, but he couldn't just let her run around _naked_! There were perverts _everywhere_!).

"Ah, not that way, Neechan!" He blurted, breaking from his memories as he noticed his Neechan trying to pull the dark blue _furisode_ on backwards. It had bright white flowers decorating it, with bright green hummingbirds flying across it and feathers lying along the _Fuki_ in shiny twists. It was a little worn and a little faded, but still very pretty. Too formal for him, but on Neechan, it would be amazing.

"Here, let me help, dattebayo!" He moved forward carefully, making sure she could see his hands. He remembered the lesson on dealing with frightened civilians, and keeping your hands in sight at all times was one of the most important points. Carefully, he got her wrapped up properly, gently pinning the kimono properly, left over right, and tying the _obi_ into a slightly messy bow on the back. It was the same color of green as the silk scarf he'd gotten for her (Actually that might have also been an _obi_. He'd seen it and thought of her eyes and had just grabbed it, so he couldn't be sure. Oh well, it was really pretty anyways.)

As he carefully helped his Neechan stand in the slightly too-big second-hand _Zori_ , with the black _Tabi_ that had holes in the heels, peering up at his Neechan as she blinked her bright, pretty green eyes at him, Naruto was struck by just _how_ pretty she was. Her hair was bright, bright red, and wavy and messy and kinda knotted right now but it looked like it would go well past her shoulders. Her green, green eyes were shaped weirdly, tilted all wrong and round in the wrong places, but still bright. Her skin wasn't pale like Sasuke-Teme's, but like she was sick, a grayish look that worried him slightly, and she was too thin and tired looking, like she'd just wash away in the rain, but, somehow, she was still super pretty.

...He was going to have to protect her from _all_ the perverts, because she'd already been hurt and some of them just didn't know how to take no for an answer and she couldn't beat them up like a Kunoichi could, so he'd have to keep her safe.

Nodding determinedly, smacking his fist into his palm, he grinned up at his Neechan. First thing's first!

"My name is Naruto, Neechan, and you're going to stay with me, okay?" He grinned up at her, and she smiled tentatively back, nervously tugging on a strand of her hair, and he wondered if maybe the color bothered her. He didn't know why, it was really, really pretty, but then again, Sakura-chan thought her forehead was ugly even though he kept telling her it was cute... Shrugging, he turned and dug through the scraps of clothes left over, and pulled out a long bit of what had once been a sleeve off of a pale green-yellow kimono, a little dirty but it would work. He handed it to her with a grin.

"For your hair, Neechan!" He told her; she looked surprised, but then her whole face did that weird, soft thing he'd seen some kids parents wear when they did something sweet, and something in his stomach squirmed and got all fuzzy-feeling, making him blush and look away, embarrassed and not really knowing why. There was a rustle of cloth and, when he looked up again, she had managed to tuck all her red hair up under the cloth, though it looked like it would all come tumbling out again if she moved too fast.

She looked kinda weird with her hair all hidden and stuff. Still pretty, but kinda weird... He shrugged and put it aside. Girls were weird, it was a fact of life.

Ramen was the Food of the Gods, Iruka-Sensei was Scary but Cool, and Girls were Weird.

Speaking of Ramen...

"Come on, Neechan!" He announced, taking her hand and absently scooping the small Lamp up and stuffing it into one of his pockets. "We're going to go eat!"

Neechan's hand was soft and warm in his as she squeezed it back and stumbled after him, getting used to the sandals, the sleeves of her _Furisode_ swinging between them as she tentatively smiled.

He had a good feeling about this, and if there was one thing Naruto knew, it was that whenever he had a good feeling about something, it was going to turn out _amazing_.

He just knew it, dattebayo!

 **A/N:** Here you go! A lighter chapter (I'm not sure if I managed to keep the same tone as the previous two, however... Halp?)

Naruto POV~!

Definitions:

 _Furisode_ \- A formal women's kimono with long, hanging sleeves, for the unmarried woman.

 _Fuki_ \- Hem Guard on a kimono

 _Obi_ \- A clothe used to tuck excess cloth away from the seeing public (like a belt one a robe)

 _Tabi_ \- Traditional ankle-high pronged socks that separate the big toe from the rest of the toes. Made to wear with Geta, Zori, and other pronged footwear

 _Zori_ \- Traditional pronged sandals made of of rice straw or other plant fibers, cloth, lacquered wood, leather, rubber, or synthetic material (Kinda like badass flip-flops/thongs)


	4. Chapter 3: Next Contestant

**A/N:** Mother fucking worthless piece of shit laptop fucking insert-spacebar erased THIS WHOLE FUCKING CHAPTER AFTER I HAD GOTTEN DOWN TO THE END FUCKING AUTHORS NOTE AND fucking

RAGE QUIT THIS SHIT GOD DAMN IT ALL

Here's a fucking chapter REWRITTEN

fucking asshole decepticon BULLSHIT laptop

The fucker lets me keep all of that fucking new ass Outlast bullshit but try and fucking write this fucking shit and _no_ , _suddenly_ it's going to be a little fucking _twatwaffle_.

ALSO

 _ **Trump**_

 _(Incoherent Rage-Quit Screaming Pterodactyl Noises of Death)_

... **Q &A At the Bottom**...

 **/\/\/\/\**

 _ **Silent Wishes**_

 **/\/\/\/\**

 **Chapter Three**

 _Next Contestant_

 **/\/\/\/\**

 _Here Comes the Next Contestant_

 _Is That Your Hand_

 _On My, Girlfriend?_

 _Is That Your Hand?_

 _I wish You'd do it Again_

 _I'll Watch You Leave Here_

 _Limping_

 _ **~"Next Contestant" by Nickelback**_

 **/\/\/\/\**

The Village Hidden in the Leaves was... _Big_. It was big and crowded and _loud_ , and there was movement everywhere she looked. Hydrangea found herself clinging tightly to Her Boy- _Naruto_ -as he lead her through the streets. Occasionally, her eyes would catch on a sign, the strange symbols looking like bizarre Runes, only for them to shimmer and shift and suddenly become clear, if not in the correct order.

The constant press of humanity, of motion and voices and staring... Especially the staring _why were they staring?!_ It was all baring down on her, hunching her over and forcing her to all but curl against Her Boy, breathing stuttering faster as they walked along. She tried to pay attention to Her Boy's voice, as he chattered on about this place and that one, most often about someone he called 'Iruka-Sensei' who he seemed to respect and listen to, and someplace called 'Ichiraku' for something called 'Ramen' which he was where he was taking her at the moment.

But it was meaningless under cruel stares and claustrophobic buildings and the tightness of her throat and chest, wide eyes locked on the ground, on the dust that was threatening the hanging ends of clothe that dangles from her sleeves. Her fingers were clutched into Her Boy's orange outfit, and fear was building, making her huddle down as they walked, her steps settling into a stumbling shuffle as she struggled to keep up but unable to _focus_.

Her Boy's arm curled around her shoulders, a warm, settling weight that only comforted her mind, her body too far gone.

It was still appreciated, however.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Naruto frowned as he wrapped an arm around his Neechan. She was doing that weird breathing thing, the thing that Hinata did sometimes and then her face would get really red and she'd pass out. He really hoped his Neechan didn't pass out, that would be bad, he didn't know what to do when that happened, and he seriously doubted poking at her or dumping water on her would help.

He could also see that Neechan was scared out of her mind, probably from all the assholes glaring at him like usual, she probably thought they were glaring at her and _that_ idea made _him_ scowl at them, blue eyes dark as he hugged his Neechan closer. Like hell he would let these jerks mess with his Neechan!

"And this is Ichiraku's!" He announced loudly, hustling his Neechan behind one of the hanging curtains and out of immediate view of the staring villagers. Immediately, he shuffled her onto a seat and coaxed her into leaning forward and setting her head between her knees.

He'd seen Iruka-Sensei do this a couple of times, usually after the Desensitization Training? Whatever, the one where they had to kill the bunnies because they needed to know how to kill to be Ninjas.

(What a bunny has to do with a human, Naruto doesn't understand, but, privately, he always thought that maybe they should have been practicing on criminals or something, because he didn't understand killing animals for fun, but people? People could be monsters all by themselves, and he could get behind that, he supposed. Then again, he thought he could kill a bunny without crying, but, well... He didn't know they could _scream_...)

"It's gonna be okay, Neechan," He soothed, awkwardly rubbing her back and trying not to panic as she gasped and chocked on her breath. He didn't know if he was doing this right, but she seemed to be breathing a _little_ better? Or, maybe she was choking, oh Kami, what if he was making it _worse_?! He wasn't Iruka-Sensei how would he know if he was doing this right?!

"Naruto-kun?" Teuchi-jii-san asked, shuffling over with concern, ladle in hand. "Is your friend alright? Does she need a medic?" Naruto sighed gratefully.

"Jii-san! I dunno what's wrong, but, people were starin' at us like usually, you know and then she just got more and more scared, and her breathing got funny, dattebayo! So, so, so, I did what Iruka-Sensei does when the Civilian girls at the Academy start breathing like that, but I dunno if it's working right!" He rattled off anxiously, looking up at one of the few adults he knew he could trust. Teuchi-jii-san seemed to _relax_ , though, and that meant he was doing this right...

Right?

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Through the aching, pounding in her ears, Hydrangea could barely hear the conversation going on above her, focusing as much attention as she could on just _breathing_ , the tightness of her throat setting off her scars and making it harder, choking her every few breaths, but she was able to _breath_.

"It seems like an anxiety attack, that's all, Naruto-kun," an older voice, kind and reassuring, was speaking with Her Boy over her head. "You're doing the exactly right thing, don't worry." The relieved sigh Her Boy gave relieved _her_ , and her breathing settled faster with a thrum of the Runes. Slowly, carefully, she began to sit up, breathing in slowly through her nose and slowly out of her mouth, blinking a few spots from her eyes.

"Ne, are you better, Neechan?" Her Boy asked worriedly, Freedom-Colored eyes huge and worried, and she could only smile, helpless under that look, and nod, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He blinked those eyes wide in surprise, before beaming up at her and bouncing a little in place. "Let's eat then, Neechan! Ramen is the Food of the Gods, dattebayo, and it'll make you feel _awesome_!" He then turned to the old, kind-looking chef on the other side of the counter, who was watching her curiously but smiling.

"Teauchi-jii-san, I want eight large bowls of Beef Ramen, three large bowls of Chicken Ramen, and a small bowl of light Chicken Ramen for my Neechan, dattebayo!" Naruto ordered happily, bouncing in place, before hesitating. " _Extra_ light Chicken, Jii-san. Neechan hasn't eaten in a long time and I don't want her getting sick, ya know?" Glancing at ehr with concern, Hydrangea could only smile softly at him and give the Chef the Her Boy obviously cared for an uncertain smile and nod as well, when the Chef looked her over.

"Coming right up, Naruto-kun," he agreed, slipping through a doorway and leaving the air to quickly begin smelling like hot broth and warmth. Slowly, she breathed it in, tears once more gathering in her eyes from the sheer wonder of being able to _smell things_ , things that weren't her own blood or the burn of ozone from a spell, or the stale, blank air of her Lamp or Cell.

Looking at Her Boy, who was focused mostly on the door the old Chef had gone through, occasionally glancing at her with a bright, happy smile, she knew that, like his eyes, the smell of Ramen was going to become a Freedom Trait to her.

Was it healthy? No, but she didn't care.

And, when the bowls were finally placed before her and Her Boy, her own tiny and half-filled, more broth then ingredient, she could only laugh silently as Her Boy began to all but inhale his own, pausing only to ask her, indignantly, what was so funny as she gasped for air, tears of joy lingering on her face as she shook her head. Her cheeks hurt from smiling as she sipped her broth, letting the taste linger as she slowly drank it down.

Yes, Ramen was definitely a Freedom Trait, one she'd be seeing a lot more often as she fondly watched Her Boy guzzle his down.

She could deal with that, however, for the smell of a home-cooked meal, the taste of hot broth, and the warmth that thawed her from the inside out.

She could definitely deal with that.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Naruto let out an explosive sigh of satisfaction, leaning back on his stool with a cheshire-grin as he patted his stomach, the stack of large, empty bowls sitting in front of him. A glance at his Neechan showed that she was contentedly sipping the last of her own bowl, going slowly in a way he kinda knew was better for her empty stomach, but he knew he'd never have the patience to do. Ramen was just so damn _amazing_ that he could never slow down on it, what if it got _cold_?! Shuddering at the thought, he shook his head and pulled out Gama-Chan, happily handing over the correct amount to his Jii-san as Ayame-Neechan took the bowls away with a smile.

"So, who _is_ your friend, Naruto-kun?" the teenage girl asked; Naruto blinked.

"Neechan is Neechan," he told them honestly. "See, she can't talk, cause someone hurt her _really_ bad, but she was trapped in this weird lamp I found in my Training Camp, see, and so I'm gonna take care of her until I can get her to Iruka-Sensei or maybe Jiji, and then they can help her, dattebayo!" He grinned proudly at this, nodding at his Neechan as she gently set her empty bowl down and, yeah, Ramen was _amazing_ , because it made her sickly skin flushed a little bit and she looked a _lot_ better already.

"That's very responsible of you, Naruto-kun," Teuchi-jii-san told him, and he couldn't help but puff out his chest.

"Thanks, Jii-san!" He chirped, before glancing at his smiling Neechan and grinning himself, hopping off his stool. "We're gonna go now, okay?"

"Have fun!" Ayame-Neechan called, waving, and Naruto nodded, happily grabbing one of his Neechan's hand as she slid off her own stool.

"Bye!" He called back, before happily leading his Neechan back out into the street. "Ayame-Neechan and Teuchi-jii-san are great, aren't they?" He asked her happily, grinning as she nodded at him, smiling. Neechan had a very nice smile. "One time, when I was little..."

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Hydrangea could only smile, helpless in the face of Her Boy's cheerfulness. Now that she could focus on something besides the stares (The feel of Her Boy's hand, His voice, the Warmth in her belly that was so wonderfully strange), she was able to concentrate on their surroundings a bit more, peering at the strange, transforming words that were sometimes out of order, like a bad Translation Charm...

One particular sign had her tugging on Her Boy's hand with a thrill of excitement, making him glance around. She pointed at it, looking at him hopefully as he squinted at it in confusion.

"Eh? You wanna see the flowers, Neechan?" He asked, and she bobbed her head firmly, smiling as he shrugged and agreeably pulled her towards what read as Flower Yamanaka's Shop.

A little bell over the door chimed, and the smell of many flowers wafted through the air, making Hydrangea pause and close her eyes, just breathing it in slowly.

"Welcome to Yamanaka's Flower Shop," A soothing, calm voice greeted, and Hydrangea blinked her eyes open to find a tall, handsome man with pale blond hair and assessing blue eyes half-smiling from behind counter, and a room filled with living green things and bright bursts of color. Hesitantly, she offered a smile back, shifting closer to Her Boy in response.

"Hi, Ino's Dad!" Her Boy greeted cheerfully, grinning his fox-like smile, eyes squinted shut, emotions hidden from view, a defense to a strange situation that reminded her of... Someone... Somewhen? From Before. Maybe...

"Neechan wanted to see the flowers!" Her Boy announced, breaking her from her slow daze and making her blink and nod agreeably.

"Feel free to browse," the man agreed calmly, those blue eyes paler than Her Boy's and assessing, placid but not because he wasn't dangerous, _everyone_ was dangerous, even Her Boy but not to her, never to her, never ever ever, He was Her Boy and-

"Neechan?" Her Boy asked gently, and she realized she was hunching down again, eyes wide and unfocused and breathing speeding up. Her Boy's hands, callused and warm and _there_ were gently on her cheeks, tilting her head to look at him, and she breathed in slowly, throat tight. "You better now?" He asked, blue eyes clear and concerned, and she let out a shaky breath, weakly smiling with a nod, and Her Boy nodded sharply back, taking one of her faintly-trembling hands in his and coaxing her into one of the aisles of flowers.

As beautiful and unique and thrilling each scent and sight and color each bloom was to Hydrangea, she was looking, almost desperately, for one, specific flower, which she finally found in a corner, blooming bright and gleaming violet. Tenderly, she traced her fingers over the petals of her namesake, throat tight and tears falling as she leaned forward and breathed in the smell of the hydrangea blossoms.

"Neechan?" Her Boy asked softly, confused, and she turned her head to find he was standing next to her, the assessing blonde next to him, waiting patiently. She smiled weakly, mouth wobbling, and pointed first at the flower, and then at herself. "Ne, you want those ones?" He asked confused; she shook her head and pointed again, this time cupping her hands over her heart and smiling. Her Boy could only blink, confused, and, for a second, panic started to crawl over her skin, because if she could be Let Out and Seen, but Her Boy could never Know her Name, would she ever be free of would she just be a doll again?

Desperately, she tried again, fear catching in her chest and making her breathing erratic.

"Your name," the blond man offered, making her flinch as Her Boy jumped. His pale blue eyes were sharper, now, eyeing her throat, but his voice was somehow gentler, kinder than before. "Those are Ajisai blossoms. They are symbols for Heartfelt Emotions, whether in joy or sadness, honesty of the heart, and gratitude for understanding. In their negative aspects, they can mean heartlessness and frigidity." He stepped forward and Hydrangea instinctively cringed back, shuffling way from hi uncertainly, but he moved calmly, slowly, and knelt next to the flowers, lifting one of the blooming sections and casting a faint smile her direction. "It is a good name to have, if more masculine-sounding then some, Ajisai-san," he told her, and that fear of being Unknown settled away as swift as it appeared because, even though it was said differently, it was still _her name_.

She was still her parents little flower.

"Ajisai, huh?" Her Boy said, quietly, before he grinned up at her, folding his hands behind his head. "That's a badass name, Neechan!" He declared, and she could only grin tearfully back, so utterly relieved that he Knew her now. "I'm gonna buy you one, Neechan! They're really pretty anyways, just like you, so I'll put it with my cactus and my other flowers in my apartment!" He declared, grinning, and asking the blond man how much it would cost. Ajisai, as she was now, didn't listen for a moment, turning her eyes back to her namesake flowers and gently running her fingertips over the soft, soft petals and leaves.

"Oh no!" Her Boy shouted, making Ajisai snap her head around, eyes flitting over him to see if he was hurt, but, no, he wasn't. All of his pockets were pulled out and he was gripping his hair with one hand, the other holding the Lamp, looking dismayed. "Neechan, I left Gama-chan at Ichiraku's! I'll be right back!" He shouted and, before she could do more than blink in surprise, he was running out the door, stuffing the Lamp back into his pocket and leaving her alone with the assessing blond man.

Breath hitching faintly, Ajisai cringed back a little instinctively, eyes locking on the blond man, mostly on his shoulders and torso.

Faces lie, bodies can but most often don't.

She would trust that over anything he said.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Ajisai-san's reaction was... Worrying. Understandable, he knew, from the obvious signs of torture and abuse, but, that she felt she had to retreat here and now, that she felt he was a threat despite having done everything to put her at ease (Difficult, seeing as he was both a Shinobi and a man, and she was a badly damaged and scared young woman). It triggered all of Inoichi's training, although half of it was 'Dig Deeper' and the rest was 'Observe and React'.

Watching as she didn't lift her eyes from his torso, however, reassured him that, despite the lack of muscle and training on her body (which was hard to fake even with how emaciated she seemed), that she at least had _some_ sort of knowledge on the body, maybe never past Academy-Student level knowledge, but some, and it helped assuage some of his worry about her abnormally large Chakra Reserves.

It didn't, of course, do anything for his wariness on her Identity, nor the reasons for her being around the young Uzumaki-kun.

It also didn't assuage his curiosity about the stark, black marks he could glimpse at the edges of her sleeves and collar, nor about the ribbon around her neck, although he could see the bulging and indentations of scars all along her body as well as that ribbon, so it may have only been for aesthetic reasons instead of deliberately hiding something, such as Seals, which some of that lettering looked like.

The way she'd been acting around Uzumaki-kun worried him, but not in a way that made him consider her a threat to the boy. No, she acted and reacted to him like both a parent and a subordinate would. She listened to him, reacted to his words and body-language, was afraid, more terrified actually, that he wouldn't understand her own actions. At the same time she indulged him, worried for him, looked him over for injuries when he was upset. All things he did with his little Ino.

It was an interesting conundrum, but, before he could even attempt at starting a conversation, there was a commotion outside, and he turned quickly when he recognized Uzumaki-kun's Chakra fluctuating in alarm.

It really shouldn't have surprised him when Ajisai-san somehow felt it too, and darted towards the doorway, but it _did_ surprise him, not because she moved or even that she was far faster than your average civilian.

No, it was because her head-cover fell with the sudden movement, and he was blinded by bright, _crimson hair_ and all he could see was _Kushina_.

By the time he'd blinked and Shunshin'd to the door, it was too late to stop her.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

 _Her Boy was in trouble_.

He was in Trouble and She Needed to get to Him _Now_.

The Runes pulsed and thrummed over and under and through her skin, and the world blurred around her, her hair, a curtail of blood-colored mats that nearly blinded her as she lunged out of the Flower Shop and took in the scene.

Her Boy was on the ground, glowering up at a large man who was sneering down at him, and she reacted without a thought.

Cloth tore and blood erupted from her back as her Chain-Magic ripped from her, even as the world blurred and she found herself kneeling, Her Boy wrapped gently in her arms, pressed firmly against her chest as she hunched protectively over him, her Chains, gold and gleaming and faintly-glowing, wrapped menacingly around the man, holding him off the ground, the wicked, barbed hooks threateningly rattling as they swayed like cobras around his shouting form.

Sound was muffled, like hearing through water, here eyes glaring, focused, on the struggling man, the Man who had _Hurt_ _ **Her Boy**_. The world around disappeared, tunnel-vision setting in, her heartbeat loud in her ears under the thrumming rush and rattling of her Chain-Magic.

 _He had Hurt_ _ **her Boy**_ _-had pushed him hurt him tried to do more she could tell-he would pay-she hated them-cruel words spat on a small child-"Freak!"-another day without food-pain in her stomach-Where was she?-No never again-_

"NEECHAN!" Her Boy's voice _roared_ in her ear, and, with a snap in her head and a sharp sting from the Runes, Ajisai was Back, breathing too-fast-too-shallow and pupils tiny as she stared blankly down into Her Boy's worried face, his _warm-small-calloused_ hands on her cheeks and suddenly she could _see_ again.

The Man was still in her Chains, cursing and yelping and trying to get free, and, surrounding them, where people in all black clothes and _masks_ , but, no, they weren't Death Eaters, not _skulls_ , _animals_ , a bear and a bird and a tiger and a deer, all tense and radiating the same strange Magic Her Boy had, and the blond Assessing Man was there too, murmuring to the Masks too quiet for her to hear, and then Her Boy was making her look at him.

"Neechan, _breathe_ ," he told her, and the Runes _pulsed_ , and, suddenly, she was breathing, breath matching to his as she swayed a little, light-headed and lost.

 _What had happened?_

 _Her Mind was tangled again, aching behind her temples._

 _Who did it? Why?_

"Neechan," Her Boy said quietly, a look of concentration on his face. "Neechan, you gotta put him down." Flinching, she shook her head furiously.

 _No, no no threat to Her Boy, won't let him hurt-_

"Neechan, I _wish_ you would _put him down_ , dattebayo!" There was something almost-desperate in Her Boy's voice, and the Runes _stung_ , a bone-deep ache like the whip of a lash and she _flinched_ , cringing down as her Chains dropped the Man like he was hot and she stared at her Boy, wide-eyed and a little scared, because that had _hurt her_ and she didn't _understand_ , she was trying to _help_ so _whywhywhywhy?!_

"Neechan, _breath_!" he shouted, but, it was too late, her breathing to sporadic, her panic to sharp and, with a choked wheeze, the world dimmed and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

 **A/N:** Ta-da! A new chapter! Sorry it took so long, y'all saw the result up at the beginning A/N heheheheheheh..heheh... heh... (-_-')

ANYWAYS...

A few answers to Review Questions!

 **Q: How Is Hydrangea Affected By The Lamp/Rune (AKA How Is She A Genie)**

A: Okay, so, the ritual performed by the idiots in the first chapter WAS technically conplete, the Final Step being the sacrifice of Human Life (The Spy). The added "sacrifice" of the Unspeakable was fed almost directly through the Runes and into her Changing Magic. She IS Bound to the Lamp, and, whoever holds it, holds _her_. The spell was NOT specifically geared towards Loyalty to a Single person, because it was going to be made a Minister of Magic Artifact (Like a Hokage Hat, Ministors would get a Magic Lamp with a loyal/submissive servant). The Runes are sort of like an instinctive Shock Collar. They are semi-sentient, and, once a bond is formed with the Lamp Holder, they act in said Holder's Best Inerest, similar to House Elf Magic, she will be able to feel her "Owners" Needs and Wants.

 **Q: Wishes**?

A: There are no set wishes, but when the "Owner" _wishes_ for her to do something, it is sort of like a Master Voice, and she will be forced to do everything she can to complete this wish to the future betterment of her "Owner". (If Naruto "wished" for Sakura-Chan to go on a date with him, for example, Hydrangea would be forced to do everything she could to get the girl to agree, even bribing or using underhanded ways to do it, although she can no longer use her Magic to mentally manipulate the girl, thankfully).

 **Q: Chains?**

The "Chains" ARE Hydrangea's Magic. During the process to Bind her to the Lamp, her magic was forcefully manipulated, and it's essentially _her own magic_ that Ties her to it, and it transformed to mirror that, becuase all it can do now is Chain and Bind things, although the extra Magic transferred through her with the extra sacrifice allows for the barbed hooks so that the Chains can be weaponized (But only on the behalf of the "Owner").

 **Q: The Lamp and It's Owner?**

A: ANYONE CAN OWN THE LAMP.

Whenever Hydrangea is critically injured or "Killed", she is forcefully returned to the Lamp, which can then be taken by someone other than her Current "Owner" and she will be then Bound to that person. So, Yes, IF Danzo ever figured that out, he could have a Genie.

 **Q: Disguise Spell?**

A: Yes, that was forcibly removed from her through the over-powered vortex and ritual magic, so she looks exactly as described.

 **Q: Is the Lamp itself important?**

A: Well, it is where she goes when injured, so yes. Also, Naruto _does_ have the lamp, at the bottom of last chapter he put it in his pocket.

 **Q: Naruto's Attitude?**

A: I am writing Naruto as a little more mature in this fic, I know, but, really, his whole mindset right now is set to "What Would Iruka-Sensei Do?" and barring that "What Would Jiji Tell Me To Do?"

 **Q: Timeline?**

A: This is about six months before the Final Graduation Test, so about Six Months PRE-CANON. Naruto is 11 and failing the Academy and a prankster who hides his hurt behind a smile. So, yeah, there you go!

There was some confusion over how she got out of the Cell from before, due to the rapid changing of her magic and the minor fight scene and her trauma, and I hope this at least answered a little bit?


End file.
